there is  alsight dimming light that beckons one's bloody throat if you sneeze you might miss yer chance to not let it swallow you

Oh swell worried stories and dreams of poetries on paper and publishing rampant and forgetful words


If i can just get a job a lick a stick a hat I could write poetry in my free time. BUt my fingers so stumbling call me back and the mask that olympia was cannot be forgotten for the facing of true ills and woes. Like magnetic blood red sticky hands that grab and grasp and choke and flatter walls so flat falling over top of each other creating new walls.

I think I had forgotten to write. i had long forgotten to read,
words are dim and no one understands.
But the true worth for me to write for myself is rmebered today

at least there is that.
and the knowledge that i am not truly depressed.

Maybe the future holds.. so many different places I can imagine.

and it is not entirely torture that i bring myself to this place
of origin

because there is something, i know, of worht here , it is worht gold, and is much sought after

it is under mounds of dirt and sin and memories of shying away from reality of what you do and do not want
of what you did and did not accept
and reality rings that we are much more free when we are alone


so maybe i just want to be alone


THENEDDDDDEND

KBYE :D  kuwaii